


offer me that deathless death, good god let me give you my life

by brittyelaine



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Episode Fix-It: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Post-Episode: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:21:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27583313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brittyelaine/pseuds/brittyelaine
Summary: Every time… every single time he’d lost Cas over the years, he was broken.  Every time, he’d wanted to welcome death, himself.  Because the pain was nearly unbearable.  Life without Cas was Hell on earth for Dean, and he’s been to Hell a few too many times.  He never wants to go back.  The next time Dean dies; the next time Cas dies, it better be together, only to find each other in the afterlife.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 1
Kudos: 126





	offer me that deathless death, good god let me give you my life

**Author's Note:**

> Will I ever be over episode 18? No. Did I like 19? Also no. I think there's a lot more to come in the finale, but we'll see. For now, this is my version of a fix-it. I'll be over here having an existential crisis for the next four days. And, perhaps well beyond that, depending on how 20 goes. 
> 
> Title is from ["Take Me to Church" by Hozier](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PVjiKRfKpPI)
> 
> Come hang out with me on [Tumblr!](https://brittywritesstuff.tumblr.com)

“Cas!” The details are hazy as to how they got here; Dean can hardly remember any of it. It’s all a blur of blood, sweat, tears and celestial power… The important thing is that he’s back. He’s here and he’s real and _he’s back._ The thing resonating the loudest in his head now: _We’ve got time._ He throws his arms around the angel; one hand splayed out between his shoulder blades, the other grasping the back of his head, Dean’s fingers curling in that mess of dark hair. Sam’s behind him, shuffling his weight, ready to give his greetings, but Dean couldn’t fucking care less. 

He pulls back just enough to grasp Cas’s face, his eyes dragging over him, like he’s making sure everything’s there. Every freckle, every line, the breathtaking blue of his eyes, the perpetual stubble, scratchy beneath his fingers. “You-- you’re here. You’re _you_?”

Cas holds his gaze, tears flooding that stunning blue. “Yes.” 

“Man, it’s so good to have you back.” Sam crowds in, clapping Cas on the shoulder. Dean relents and steps back, his hands falling away from Cas’s face. He doesn’t want to let go, though. He’s afraid if he lets go, Cas will just disappear. Or the Empty will take him back. And he can’t. He can’t handle that. Sam seems to take the hint and steps back, glancing at Dean with a smirk. “Sorry. I’ll let you two catch up.” 

Sam remains and clears his throat, watching his brother, who can’t take his eyes off of Cas. Eileen is at his elbow, and tugs at his sleeve. He looks down at her, and they exchange a look. _Leave them alone._ “Alright.” Sam shakes his hair away from his face and nods, like he’s made a decision. Dean tries not to hear the smirk in his voice. They’ll have a conversation about this later, he knows, and he’s not entirely interested in it. But, for the moment, he’s glad that Sam is leaving it be. “We’re heading to bed. I’m beat.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, his eyes still fixed on Cas. “Night, Sammy. Eileen.” Sam waits a beat, then takes Eileen’s hand and finally leaves, and Dean drags in a breath. His heart is racing, and he wonders if Cas can hear it. Suddenly, the panic room makes him feel too vulnerable, remembering what happened here. “Can we--” He stops and clears his throat. “Can we talk in my room?”

Cas’s eyes search Deans, and he nods slowly. “Of course, Dean.”

They walk together to Dean’s room, their footsteps too loud and echoing in the silent, still bunker. Cas steps through the door first, and Dean follows, closing it behind them. With Cas’s back to him still, Dean scrubs his hands over his face, trying hard to calm his nerves. He shrugs out of his jacket and tosses it to the desk chair. It misses and flops to the floor, but he doesn’t bother to pick it up. “D’you-- you wanna make yourself comfortable?” He asks.

Cas turns to him, his brow drawn together in confusion.

“The, uh,” Dean gestures to Cas’s coat. “The coat. You wanna-- you can-- if you want.” 

Cas looks down at himself, his fingers trailing the lapel of the coat. He hesitates a moment before shrugging out of it, and the suit jacket. He drapes them carefully over the back of Dean’s chair, then bends to pick up Dean’s, giving it the same treatment. Watching it makes Dean’s heart ache.

“Listen, Cas,” he starts. Cas stands upright again, his eyes fixed on Dean’s, and there goes his heart again -- ready to pound out of his chest. 

Cas tilts his head, and Dean tries to read the look on his face. Is that pity? “You don’t need to say anything, Dean.” He huffs, a wry smile turning up one corner of his lips. “I told you my truths, and I made it clear I know that it — you — it’s something I can never have. I made peace with telling you. I understand it’s… it’s unrequited. You don’t owe me an explanation--”

“But I do!”

Cas stops, closing his mouth. His brows draw together, and he tips his head.

Clearing his throat, Dean swallows against the sudden dryness. He glances away, focusing on a spot on the wall like it’ll give him the strength he needs to say what he’s gotta say. “Look, Cas,” his gaze drops to his shoes briefly before he finally forces his eyes up again. Cas, of course, is watching him patiently and intently. Dean moves closer and clenches his fists. _Spit it out, Winchester._ “Fuck,” he breathes, shaking his head, “there’s a lot. I… All that stuff you said, about me, I…” The lines between his brows deepen. “You really think that?”

“With my entire being,” Cas says, with no hesitation.

Dean nods, like he’s trying to rattle the thoughts into their proper places. “I never got the chance to say anything. You say it, and the Empty’s there, and you’re gone. That wasn’t fair.”

Cas sighs. “I’m sorry, Dean. I--”

“That wasn’t fuckin’ fair because you died not knowin’ _my_ side of things.” Clenching his jaw, Dean takes another step forward. He reaches out, settling his hands on Cas’s shoulder. He pauses a beat, then decides, fuck it, and slides his hands up, his fingers brushing Cas’s neck before cradling his jaw. “No one’s ever seen me like that. Not even me, Cas.” He searches the angel’s eyes, feeling tears well in his own. “You’ve seen everything, and you still-- you--”

“Love you,” Cas finishes for him. “Yes.”

Dean punches out a breath, and when he blinks, those tears spill over. Instead of wiping them away, his thumbs brush Cas’s cheeks, once again delighting in the scratch of stubble. “I ain’t ever felt like this about anybody. And it scares the shit outta me. And I guess I never thought... I never thought you _could_ or whatever, but damn it, Cas. I do love you. You _can_ have me. All of me.” 

Cas’s lips part in surprise at Dean’s words, but Dean takes the opportunity he’s wanted for _years._ He leans in and kisses Cas. It’s slow and tentative at first, but Cas relaxes into him, his hands gripping at the back of Dean’s shirt. Dean’s tongue glides along Cas’s bottom lip, begging entrance, and he groans when Cas allows it. One hand shifts to the back of his head, gripping at Cas’s hair as he deepens the kiss, holding Cas as close and tight as possible. His fears from earlier had yet to dissipate; the last thing he could possibly handle is Cas disappearing again.

When Dean needs to breathe, he tilts his mouth away, his forehead pressed against Cas’s. His eyes remain closed, and an actual fucking smile turns up his lips. “I shoulda told you a long fuckin’ time ago, Cas. I shoulda done _this_ long fuckin’ time ago. I’m sorry. I just--I--I didn't--” 

Cas’s hands smooth up Dean’s back, and pull him closer. “Please don’t apologize, Dean,” he whispers, his breath warm on Dean’s face. “Just... don’t stop.” 

Dean doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s spent years denying it. He’s spent years beating himself up over it. But he’s done. He’s lost Cas too many times, but he finally has him, and he’s not gonna fucking let go. 

He captures Cas’s lips in a heated kiss, groaning at the taste of his tongue. His movements are sloppy; it’s definitely not his best work, but he doesn’t give a damn. He doesn’t give a damn about anything except this, here, that Cas is in his hands, moaning under the feeling of Dean’s kiss. _That’s_ all he wants to think about. 

Relinquishing his grip on Cas’s face, he works his hands between them to loosen that ever-present blue tie, yanking it away to let it flutter to the floor. He pulls back enough to look at Cas’s face as his fingers work at the buttons of his shirt. Cas is breathless, his lips red from Dean’s kiss, and his pupils blown. _Fuck,_ Dean’s never seen anything so stunning. 

When he gets the shirt open, he takes a breath and runs his hands up Cas’s stomach, over his chest, pushing the shirt from his shoulders. There’s only been a few occasions over the years in which Dean has seen Cas shirtless, but to have him so close, and be allowed to touch him… it’s a whole different playing field. One he never wants to leave. “You sure about this, Cas?” His voice is strained, rough, and quiet -- full of emotion and desperation he’s never felt before. 

Cas lifts his hands, pushing Dean’s open flannel from his shoulders. He smirks as it falls to the floor and slips his hands under Dean’s t-shirt. “I have never been more sure of anything, Dean, as I am of this. Of _you_.” 

It’s all the confirmation Dean needs. He dives in for a hard, heated kiss, pulling away only long enough to yank his t-shirt over his head. The feeling of Cas’s skin against his own sets him on fire, and for the first time, he feels _alive_. Putting an end to Chuck and his story had been a relief, but _this_ … This is something else. This is what he’s been searching for his whole life. Kill after kill, conquest after conquest… it’s never made him feel like this. 

He hastily and clumsily toes out of his boots; Cas follows with his shoes, and Dean pushes him back to the bed. The frame groans beneath the weight of two grown men atop it, but Dean pays it no mind. There’s not a single part of this that can deny he hasn’t thought of this before; hasn’t fantasized about it in the shower a time or two or ten. He’s not as graceful or suave as he’d like to be, but again… it doesn’t matter, because it’s Cas. Finally, it’s Cas.

The rest of their clothes are shed hastily, falling forgotten to the cold cement floor. They move together until they break, and Dean huffs a laugh when the lamp on his desk flickers. Closing his eyes, he drops his head, pressing a warm kiss to the hollow of Cas’s throat. Cas tips his head and Dean looks up to see him smiling. 

“What?” Dean shifts to settle beside Cas, laying on his side. He props his head against his hand, his free hand smoothing over Cas’s chest before it stills. 

“I’m just--”

“Happy?”

Cas covers Dean’s hand with his own and shifts to turn his head toward Dean. “Yes. I didn’t think it was possible.” 

“Yeah,” Dean huffs, his eyes dragging over Cas’s face. “Me, neither.” 

Dean falls asleep that night with his chest pressed flush to Cas’s back, his arm wrapped firmly around the angel. He knows Cas doesn’t need to sleep, but he’s grateful for the pretense. Because he craves the intimacy, the normalcy, the pure elation he feels in getting to hold Cas in his arms after… well, _everything._

+

Dean wakes in a panic. “No, no, no, no!” His breathing is heavy and labored, the sheets clinging to his sweat-damp skin. He’s sprawled on his back, and his hand is pressed to his chest as he sits up; his heart racing. “Cas!”

Cas’s hand settles on his shoulder, and when Dean turns, the other grasps his jaw. “I’m here, Dean. What’s the matter?”

Swallowing as he heaves a breath to calm himself, Dean closes his eyes and leans in to press his forehead to Cas’s. He lifts his hands, pushing his fingers into Cas’s hair. “Had a dream you were still gone. Fuckin’ nightmare. Sam ‘n’ I just… didn’t care. Didn’t try to bring you back.” He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Cas wipes away his tears. “I’m so sorry.”

“Dean. It was a dream. I’m here. It’s alright.”

“It felt so fuckin’ real.”

“I’m real. You and me, this. _Us_. This is real,” Cas whispers.

Dean kisses him, desperate to anchor himself in Cas. In his words, his kiss, his touch, in this. The dream had terrified him; the idea that there could be a world without Cas in which Dean wouldn't care. It couldn’t be further from the truth. Every time… every single time he’d lost Cas over the years, he was broken. Every time, he’d wanted to welcome death, himself. Because the pain was nearly unbearable. Life without Cas was Hell on earth for Dean, and he’s been to Hell a few too many times. He never wants to go back. The next time Dean dies; the next time Cas dies, it better be together, only to find each other in the afterlife.

Because life without Cas is Hell, but he knows the only Heaven he’ll be sent to; the only one he wants is one in which he’s with his angel. Until then, he’ll hold on for dear life yo the time he has with him now… to the life they’ve finally been afforded together.


End file.
